


Spontaneous Office Shenanigans

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Blow Jobs, Canon Character of Color, Deepthroating, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Office Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, and i just wanted a meet-cute and now here i am w 3k words at 6 am, i feel like ive contaminated my entire laptop, i have 'spanish terms of endearment' and 'penis anatomy' in my search history oh my god, wow thats an actual tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 09:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6798574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically this started as pure self indulgence for businessmen!Raphael and DeliverBoy!Simon and now here we are</p><p>Raphael is the head a major magazine publishing company and Simon is a struggling student/aspiring artist who works part time at a 24 hour restaurant that delivers. They meet and a rather intense rendezvous ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spontaneous Office Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> See end notes for Spanish translations

In his defense, Raphael didn’t _know_ it was two AM. In fact, he’d thought it was ten in the evening. Eleven, at the latest. Ignoring the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Lily (who, thankfully, was on vacation), he insisted to himself that he wasn’t being unreasonable; it was just Monday--- what did they expect? So he had called at an unorthodox time, so what? It’s not as if he had committed a _murder_. He’d just wanted coffee. Rolling his eyes, Raphael made a mental note to double the assistant’s pay.

On Raphael’s desk, the remaining stack of paperwork seemed only to have grown in size since when he’d started at lunch. Raphael just then realized he hadn’t eaten anything since. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he also didn’t want to pass out in his office. He considered his options. His usual stock of food had been raided by a certain glittery art director along with the cursed chief editor earlier in the week (despite his protests, of course. Did these idiots have nothing better to do? Raphael couldn’t wait for their whiny protests tomorrow when he gives them more paperwork). He couldn’t call Stan again; he’d sounded even more murderous with this repeat of last month’s late-night calls. Raphael blanched at the idea of having to drive out to a fast food chain--- he had a _refined_ palate (refined, not picky; shut up, Lily). Resisting the urge to roll his eyes again, Raphael resigned himself to the unfortunate task of non-work-related research, and pulled up yelp in a new tab as he suppressed a yawn.

* * *

The buzzer sounded just as Raphael had slipped back into his paperwork, and it jolted his arm to knock the inkwell inward onto his suit. Disregarding logic, Raphael suddenly developed a burning hatred for whoever was delivering. He barely glanced at the screen as he input the passcode, and felt his contempt magnify as he stalked from behind his desk towards the closet in the corner. He reached for his backup clothes, having changed out of his now-ruined jacket, trousers, _and_ shirt. _Maybe I ought to thank him for sparing my briefs_ , he thought snidely.

He laid the ensemble aside the papers on his desk and tossed the empty black bottle into the trash with perhaps more force than necessary. Finally sliding off his shoes and out of his socks after a few failed attempts, Raphael could only express his frustration by angrily jamming his left foot into the pant leg. He was just tugging the pants over his hips when the door opened behind him to unleash the devil himself--- a barrage of messy stuttering and barely-contained energy. Raphael could tell just from his speech pattern that he probably even _fidgeted_.

Raphael had closed his eyes in a silent plea for patience (which failed), then whipped around with a string of curses and flaming wrath at the ready:  
“Jesus fucking christ! ¡Que chingados! Primero arruinas mi traje y despue---”

... for his words to die on his tongue as soon as he took in the sight in front of him. There was an _angel_ holding a takeout box, standing in his doorway.

His hair was ruffled and his face was flushed; his grin was blinding even as it was slipping from his lips. Raphael felt an irrational impulse to steal the moon or buy him several small islands to keep it there ( _god help him_ ). He had stopped talking, which seemed something like a small miracle, but his infuriating mouth was opening and closing as if gasping for air, which Raphael ought to have found unattractive but could only think of as _endearing_. The (very small) still-functioning part of Raphael’s brain seemed to be aghast, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. In fact, the majority of Raphael’s brain was quite preoccupied. Granted, not with generating intelligible thought, but it was doing a wonderful job of creating a detailed stream of _images_ , featuring those thighs, out of ill-fitting jeans to straddle Raphael; wicked yet innocent eyes, tracking his movements as he lowered himself; long fingers, pulling at his hair and pumping in and out of him; those ridiculous lips whispering Raphael’s name, and wrapping around hi---

Raphael realized that he definitely, _definitely_ did not hate the delivery boy.

Raphael was also regretting not zipping up his pants. Perhaps all this work was getting to him; he really ought to look into those stress-relieving, lavender scented candles Elliott was talking about. Surely he wasn’t usually this easily affected. Belatedly, he recalled that he was supposed to be doing something: going through the motions of some social ritual so as for the object of his fantasies not to realize what he had been doing inside his head. The brown eyes hadn’t left his bare chest though, so Raphael counted that as a win.

“Hello,” Raphael said, while he thought about Camille and Magnus in matching saris to will his blood back up north.

The boy’s eyes flew to his mouth, then flickered up to his eyes, only to settle somewhere around his left ear after his cheeks reddened further. Raphael faintly registered the choirs of heaven--- until he started to speak.

“H-hi! I, uh, I was just sent to deliver this,” his left arm did an awkward half-raise of the plastic box, “which, obviously you know, since you, uh, ordered it.”

Raphael wondered if he usually talked this much, or if it was because he was flustered. (He refused to admit he found it cute.) He hoped for the later and smiled, walking forward with his pants still unbuttoned until he could properly appreciate the rambling angel's eyelashes.

“Wh-What is this place anyway? I’d never expected anyone to actually order this late, usually it’s just high college kids and people from the airport. I was actually planning on yet another star wars marathon---not, that I’m complaining, but---”

Raphael raised an eyebrow, which seemed to distract him for half a second. Seizing the opportunity, he let the words pour out of his mouth slowly, “I believe,” he paused, licking his lips, “that you owe me an apology, _hermoso_.”

“What’s an hermoso? My name’s Simon, thank you very much." Raphael was enraptured with the crinkle in his brow. "Wait, an apology? I’ve never seen you before in my life, and trust me, I would remember if I had, so even if _you’re_ hitting on me,” Simon continued, and Raphael found it impressive he didn’t run out of breath, “ you’re still gonna need a better pick up line than ‘you should be sorry because you made me drop my drink’ which, frankly, wouldn’t even work because you don’t have a drink---”

Raphael rolled his eyes. “No, genius, the doorbell made me spill ink onto my suit. It’s quite an expensive suit, you know. It was new, too.” Raphael learned that he was not above lying to tease cute, three AM delivery boys named Simon. He couldn’t care less about the goddamn suit at the moment. In fact, now he had an actual reason to justify his shopping to Lily.

Simon seemed to be incapable of staying still; his lone unoccupied arm was waving about wildly. “How else was I supposed to get up here? I’m not spiderman,” Simon said, and Raphael could now pinpoint that this was the exact, pivoting moment where he would launch into another tangent, “even though I totally wish I was, but I haven’t been bitten by any radioactive spiders yet, though there was that tiny evil rabbit that one time, but I don’t think that counts. Oh! and there was that other time with the German Shepard, which was weird because dogs usually love me, and...”

Simon kept trailing on as Raphael observed with raised eyebrows. Simon was like a tornado, Raphael thought. He was _fascinating_. He sucked in all the air around him to make space for his own havoc, Raphael knew he was walking straight into the vortex.

Simon didn't seem to be aware of his own excitable nature. Raphael shook his head, amused, and stepped backwards to retrieve his wallet from his desk, gesturing for Simon to follow.  
“Close the door behind you, won’t you.”

“I really am sorry about you suit though, but it’s not exactly fair to accuse me man, I couldn’t know that you were in the middle of pouring ink,” Simon paused. Raphael turned around to see Simon setting the long-forgotten order on his desk. “Or whatever it is that you do with ink. In fact, you should be the sorry one; who the hell lets a stranger in while they’re changing?”

“Mhm,” Raphael hummed his consent as he held out the money across his desk, and watched as Simon slid the bills into the back pocket of those offensive pants, without counting them. “You’re right, I do owe you an apology.” Raphael began to walk around his desk, licking his lips again while he lifted his gaze to level Simon’s. His stride was languid and even. “And how,” Raphael paused, “do you suppose we do that?”

He was slowly circling the brunette now, on the other side of the table. Simon’s body was turning itself to mirror his, unconsciously mimicking a lover's’ waltz. For some reason this made him want to smile. Raphael was close enough to study the movement of Simon’s adam’s apple as he swallowed, and could feel the phantom brush of skin every time Simon’s hands ticked or knee bounced.

“U-uhm” was Simon'd eloquent response. Interesting. So there _was_ a way to shut him up, after all. He was just never quiet.

Raphael leaned upwards, bringing his face closer and closer to Simon's until his lips were whispering against his cheek, “What should I do to make it up to you?”

Simon made an unintelligible noise and his eyes widened comically. Raphael stepped back, and the protest Simon looked like he was about utter was silenced as Raphael sunk to his knees in one fluid motion. Simon was slack-jawed and for once, no sound was coming out of his mouth. Raphael was only encouraged by his ironically worshipful eyes.

“Is this ok?” Raphael was surprised at the tenderness he heard in his voice, but he brushed it aside and looked up. Simon nodded frantically, so Raphael made quick work of the buttons, taking care not to touch him where he needed it most, and was about to finally unzip the horrible pants when he froze---  
“Wait!”  
Raphael immediately leaned back, just about to jump up and explain how he _thought_ he was reading the situation correctly, and how he didn’t mean to force himself onto him when---  
“Wh-what’s your name?”

“My name?” Raphael asked, incredulous.

“Yeah.” Simon seemed to be blushing even more than before, which made Raphael forgive him instantaneously for his ludicrous timing.

“It’s Raphael.” And with that, his teeth latched onto the zipper to drag it down, slowly, looking up at Simon the entire time, preening at Simon's tangible desire. Raphael discovered he enjoyed Simon’s fidgeting when he was the cause of it.

He dragged down the denim by the sides, finally triumphant over the appalling article, and spent all of two seconds debating whether it was worth the effort to comment on the humor of the ‘The Flash’ symbol on Simon’s boxer briefs before he gave up, surging forward to mouth against his obvious hardness through it instead. His tongue licked against the material, trying to _taste_ Simon, and he allowed his teeth to graze against the sides. The whimpering above drew his attention then, and when Raphael pulled down the band just so he could kiss the tip, Simon’s knees buckled. _So responsive_ , Raphael thought. He wondered if Simon would come if he just teased enough--- maybe for hours--- and found himself wanting to try. If it weren’t for the breathless voice that started calling his name right then, he might’ve. Raphael then looked up and sincerely thanked God and all the saints that he had left the desk light on. Simon was gripping the desk edge with both hands in the soft glow, biting his lip with his head thrown back. His chest was rising and falling in rapid fashion, and precum was leaking from the angry red tip of his eager erection. The picture he made was nothing short of _revelation_. Raphael didn’t think he’d ever been this hard in his life, and Simon hadn’t even touched him yet.

“ _Grandioso_ ,” Raphael breathed out. Before Simon could ask what he meant, he drew down the superhero underwear with a practiced grace, and licked a stripe up the underside of Simon’s beautiful, _beautiful_ cock. He braced his hands against Simon’s pelvis to keep him from bucking against him, and licked his lips before taking Simon as far as he could (which, surprisingly, was not all of him; Raphael might be a little bit in love). Raphael reveled in the weight of him, but he stopped moving to fully appreciate Simon’s reactions above. He was gasping as his hips made subconscious little thrusts, and Raphael pulled off to smirk when he heard Simon manage “fucking bastard” under his breath.

His tongue darted out to flatten against the glistening head while his hand gripped the base, enjoying the taste before he suckled him into the wet heat of his mouth again. He massaged the underside and around the frenulum until Simon’s moans began to sound desperate. Raphael then decided to stop teasing--- he swallowed Simon down like he was starving for it, until his lips kissed the band of his fingers, allowing himself a few moments to adjust before he was moving up and down with velvet ease, relishing the feel of him. The slick, undeniable sounds filled the room, and Raphael had to press his other palm against himself to relieve the tension. He sped up, and Simon let out a string of curses. His hand found its way into Raphael’s newly-disheveled locks, lightly tugging then gone all too soon--- Raphael groaned and lifted his hand to bring Simon’s down, encouraging him to grip his hair and guide his throat. But something in the way Simon _caressed_ his cheek instead made Raphael a ruined man--- his overeager mannerisms, perhaps, or maybe just the unchecked way he moved--- something about Simon made Raphael feel as if he could show him teeth and claws and have faith that he would not run, as if he could show him new wounds and old scars and trust him to stay.

 _Cojeme_ , he thought, _I am in way over my head_. But Raphael lifted his hands still, dropping them at his sides, nodding as he locked gazes with an obscenely wrecked Simon. He then pushed forward as far as he could with his mouth, while his wide hands pulled Simon into him from his backside. Raphael heard Simon take a sharp breath in, then feverishly asking for permission, even now. Raphael felt his heart melt. _This is dangerous_ , his mind warned. But Simon sounded like he couldn’t believe that Raphael would offer this; he looked like he thought Raphael was the blessing, rather than the other way around. From Simon's open mouth first stumbled out “R-really? Are you sure?” then a remarkable "Thank you" when he had nodded again... and so Raphael Santiago was condemned with seven and a half syllables.

He couldn't keep his hands from digging into his thighs as he looked up, hopping Simon could see everything and nothing at the same time.

Simon’s finger in his mouth felt like a brand, but the way he held his jaw felt like a promise. Simon’s hips were delirious, snapping forward and taking unabashed pleasure for himself with every thrust, but always so, _so_ careful not to hurt Raphael past how he wanted to be hurt--- as if he knew. As if he’d always known and he’d always know.

Drunk on a loving lust, Raphael unbuckled his belt with his now-free hands, clumsy on their fervent mission, and clasped the base with a tight vice of fingers to keep himself from coming. It took a colossal amount of self control to keep his pace slow, working himself over in the answering rhythm to Simon’s vicious beat. He couldn’t contain his groans, and the vibrations of his throat tipped Simon past the point of no return; his blasphemous use of God’s name turned into nothing more than aborted moans. Raphael lost what little control he had left as soon as Simon’s hips became sporadic; his fucking became a wild chase, and Raphael’s release was the accompaniment. His hand was now moving in tandem with Simon’s cries, and when Simon choked out his warning and began to pull back, Raphael only positioned his left arm behind him, determined. Simon sounded devastated when he finally spilled himself into Raphael’s welcoming mouth, and Raphael’s orgasm was drawn by its gravity; his eyes never leaving Simon’s face. Raphael's climax was vibrant and blinding, rushing toward him and coursing through him and seemed to never end.

* * *

He was reluctant to give up having Simon in his mouth, but already boneless then, and light headed from the lack of oxygen. So he tilted his head back to show Simon the mess on his tongue, then swallowed it down. He licked his own come-covered fingers and smiled when he saw Simon's spent dick give a valiant twitch. Simon looked stricken then, but Raphael was in a haze of intoxication, and he felt so pliant as to snuggle against Simon's calves. 

* * *

When he had regained a sliver of his senses, he stood up to help Simon sit down, and set him against the desk. In a fleeting moment of foolish impulse, Raphael leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Simon’s forehead. He made his way to the adjacent bathroom to get towels, taking his time to draw warm water and refusing to admit he was having a hard time standing on his still-recovering legs.

When he came back, He found himself responding to several of Simon’s confusing exclamations before he realized he was talking in his sleep--- it made sense that he couldn’t even stay quiet when asleep. Raphael was brushing Simon’s hair out of his face and cleaning his shoes with a faint smile, ignored any urging of his mind to further investigate the reasons for why he wasn't kicking him out instead. After realizing that Simon had managed to ruin his _entire_ outfit today, underwear included, Raphael quickly changed completely into his sleepwear. He brought out an extra pair underwear, a t-shirt, and some blankets, then extended the pull out sofa and carried Simon onto it. When Raphael was forced to lay eyes upon the Jeans of Horror yet again in the pile at the foot of the desk, he promptly strode back over to the closet to pull out one of his favorite blue suits. He set it next to Simon and after transferring the bills into the suit trouser pockets, and casually stowed Simon’s original trousers away (at the bottom of the laundry basket, behind the bathroom with the door firmly shut). Raphael was in the middle of making a mental note to tell Stan to purchase a pair of size 9.5 shoes when Simon's sleep talking--- something about a cage (?) in some vampire movie (??); _christ_ , how was he real?--- jolted Raphael back to reality. He relented, but let the "soiled" jeans stay where they were. Raphael undressed Simon with a sort of delayed hesitance, though he doubted Simon would mind him seeing him shirtless after he had seen Raphael swallowing his cum. Getting Simon into a t-shirt and briefs was no easy feat, but thankfully he seemed to be a deep sleeper. After brushing his teeth and a quick shower, Raphael returned to extinguish the lamp light with a soft click, gaze lingering on Simon’s sleeping face. Lily’s voice was calling him a creep, but something in his chest was too high for him to care; something in his stomach too bright; something he wasn’t sure if he couldn’t name or he couldn’t let himself acknowledge.

Raphael covered Simon with the bulk of the blankets and settled on the floor next to him with only two (he always did run cold). He stared at the ceiling and despite being used to sleeping this late on a regular basis, he found himself to be very, very tired. Simon’s arm was now dangling slightly over the sofa-bed; Raphael nudged it back, only for it to flop over again. This made Raphael want to smirk until he realized his lips were already set at a wide grin. It was completely unprofessional, not his style and really quite strange; his cheeks would even ache on top of his throat tomorrow, _carajo_ , but he did not want to stop. He closed his eyes and wondered if Simon would wake up before he did, and if he would look as good in the suit as Raphael thought he would. Raphael didn’t worry about leaving him a note, because somehow, he knew they would meet again.

Raphael’s fading consciousness as he drifted into sleep, for the first time in years, was not working at tomorrow's work schedule or the leftover paperwork, but just making simple resolutions to order the same takeout again, and half-assedly guessing at Simon’s last name. 

_Santiago_ , he thought, feeling like new beginnings, _Santiago wouldn't sound half bad_.

**Author's Note:**

> "Que chingados"- what the fuck  
> "Primero arruinas mi traje y despues"- first you ruin my suit and then  
> "hermoso" - beautiful  
> "Grandioso" - magnificent  
> "Cojeme" - fuck me  
> "Carajo" - fuck
> 
> [+dont even look at me i am in the Deepest Pits of Hell,,,  
> +I just wanted to try writing shut how did this get so long and Fake Deep what is with me this week Jesus christ  
> +I don't even like Dicks? at all?  
> +I also successfully wrote this without a single mention of '''dios', 'idiota', or 'chuckles' wow congrats @ me  
> +also i usually prefer the characters not being instantly super attracted to each other but i only wrote this with the intentions of pure sin so that happened to be  
> +this is so unrealistic im Ashamed}
> 
> im also trash here: http://the-bane-ofmyexistence.tumblr.com/


End file.
